At that point, Ffion puts her head round the door. "Um, Inric, could I ask a favour? I want to visit Rhydaber, but Anar Nazarchtharin isn't here. Will you take me, please?" She comes up to the table. "I'll bring you some chuckets. Gwyn's got really good at them!" "You do not need to offer payment," Inric says, picking his words carefully. It's too easy to let a recently-acquired language slip. Ffion looks surprised. "You don't want the chuckets?" "I did not say that."