She is the first one at the table and the first one to look away, which is how you know the six years have not sorted her out at all.
Niamh Kiroris has her crossbow across her knees and the map under both hands, and she does not look up until she has to.
"Bram said you would come."
She corrects herself without blinking.
"Bram said you would come. I told him you would not."
She finally looks at you, and her eyes are still the same hazel-brown, and she still does not know what to do with them.
"Before anyone says anything — I remember exactly what I said to you. I have thought about it in about nine different tents."
She pushes the map at you.
"So tell me what we are doing. Straight and honest, like two professionals."