He remembered Baila as a boy, with a round face that had not stretched yet into the square jaw priestesses loved so much. He'd been incapable of lying then, and remained so to this day, yet it was he who'd taken responsibility for Ramga's presence in this place. As the master of the house in Ilúvatar's absence this was right - yet they'd both known it was a lie. How and when had she inspired such loyalty in his men? Ilúvatar was no longer convinced that she should be distrusted. She had not attempted personal revenge, had not done anything short of try to give him good advice. Yet the names. This Kethsahlon. He did not know the name, could not put a face to it, but the other name - it was one that he knew from his time abroad. A name that had taken him most of the afternoon to dig out.
"Alfirin," he said quietly. "I know that face. I know that name."
His gloves creaked as he removed them. Only show, of course; when Lady Vaelrun looked at him she saw nothing but a savage, regardless of how he dressed. She was much a victim of her time and place, of her people, as he was. Perhaps more for her inability to reason out what it was that Ramga was attempting. It could have been what she said. Implied. That she was not only all right with, but accepting of Ramga's goals. That she would rather see... he couldn't think about that. There was another occasion at which he'd worn his best. A merchant, but dressed in the clothing of a lord. Or a king.
Their meeting had proceeded without incident, so far as Alfirin and Eöl had been concerned. For Ilúvatar there had been four battles over two days. The first fellow was rotting from the outside in. The last fellow was extremely courteous, with his tongue and his steel. The last one died hard. Being the consort to a queen was a risky proposition. And not one, Ilúvatar supposed, that he would ever want to take up. His job - killing men who were paid to watch the light leave Alfirin's eyes - had been simple enough. So that was where he remembered a face. Kind but shrewd, in the way that Ilúvatar had always thought of his own king's face.
"I was given the task of protecting him during his visit to our nation," Ilúvatar let his shoulders slump against the door. "His knights stayed with him. I fought four duels in two days. They were all skilled. They sounded... they were from the south, from his nation. Assassins from beyond the mountains. I'd never met anything like them, before."
So if she knew the consort of a queen... if she lived in his house? There were a thousand assumptions waiting to be made. He resisted. Eyes narrow, face pinched, thoughts cut off at the knees.
"I should be angry. I might be angry. But I want to know how you knew Alfirin."