Ordhan's breath halted for a moment, a telling glance cast at the tranquil's face before looking down at the letter. Constans had mentioned that he was unskilled in reading emotion; otherwise, he might notice the tension that flickered across Ordhan's features and the sudden stiffening of his shoulders. Ordhan enjoyed Constans's company; what others may see as a lack of personality or even soul, he found a quiet, serious man not unlike himself. This allowed him to largely ignore the reasons behind it, living in a denial only half-realized. Thinking of the other as part of a family--or having been part of a family, as was the lot of mages--jarred the carefully-arranged veils of ignorance in his mind.
His voice managed to be as placid as ever as he responded, "We will be halting in Denerim. I would be glad to help; it is no burden." Ordhan came a few paces closer, near enough to take the paper were it offered to him. "What is your father's name, Constans? And where would I find him?" Denerim was a large place; it had been his home for twenty years and he had not seen all of it, though this was likely due more to his own indifference than any constraint.