"Elturel used to be one of those," he says softly, but it's more to himself than anyone else, and fortunately the tender warmth of the sun means the sting of his exile is less vicious than usual.

After all, it's put him in a position where he can welcome someone else to a place of comparative safety. He moves closer to the stranger and accepts the handclasp firmly, completely innocent of any guile or danger. "I'm Zevlor," he says. "I've been stuck here for about six months..."

But the comment about Baldur's Gate makes him break off from whatever information he was about to share, looking more intently interested now. Possibly a little worried. "Is the Gate safe? Who leads the city now?"

That ought to at least tell him whether the Absolute is about to come calling on this man's timeline, or whether it's been vanquished.