It was as he'd feared, then. Watching somberly, Alderic felt a terrible sympathy for the mage. It was hard enough to lose someone you loved at all, but all those years she'd gone without knowing for certain... if only he had known where Bethen was from, that she'd had family, couldn't he have done something? He'd been on missions that had taken him near this place, it would have been a simple matter- but, no. Perhaps after all, it had been easier just to hold out hope.
Propriety demanded that he shouldn't, but... just this once, it would be more cruel than kind to hold himself back. After so many years of the most carefully wrought cordiallity, their eternal, polite caution lest their friendship bring reprisal down upon one or both in the claustrophobic confines of the Tower, Alderic allowed himself this one moment. He stepped beside Bethen and gently placed his hand on her shoulder, deepest sympathy in his eyes as she trembled there with her face in her hands. (Strangely, it now seemed a boon that he'd already removed his gauntlet; as they say, mysterious ways.)
To say anything seemed too much, for the moment. He could be here for her, but no amount of "I'm sorry" could take away her pain.