Were Ordhan paying attention he would have noticed how the motion of her hands stilled as he spoke, but he was too wrapped up in his own troubles to think of how his story might affect her.
Ordhan felt the tension seep out of him like a poison being drawn, even as his ugly story spilled out. He felt...exhausted once it was told. Hollow. If he had any soul left to give, he would trade it for the days of not knowing the world was like this. But what remained to him was scarred and useless. Just enough conscience remained to make guilt a constant, soothed away only by drink or the Pearl's embrace. Then once again he would force himself not to care. Men had forced the Maker away long ago, and lived in a hell of their own making; what could he do about it?
Her voice was calming, indifferent--anything else and he would have silenced himself. "He asked to be assigned there. No one wants to be there; it is dangerous." He let out his breath in a sigh that shuddered. "It is no wonder that they hate us." Were Lillian to accuse him right there and then of his cowardice, telling him that he was part of making that hatred well-earned, he would have no argument.
"I do not know what happened to the elf. I stayed away," he added, another nail in the coffin of his own self-condemnation. "What could I do? Dalbach has been a guard since before I was born."