"A dream about this tower, then?" Braithe asked, still lounging on her side, eyes closed. She hoists up, looking at Tristan and stretching her neck to either side. "And oddly specific? Most of my dreams are much less gory and much less coherent. More a portent than a dream, I suppose, though I haven't had much truck with fortunetellers. What was yours about? Mine had half a dozen not-very-bright fellows who decided to take on the whole Quadan nation here and that turned out about as well as you'd expect. It gave me the distinct impression that if we do intend to search this tower, we ought to please mind their vengeful spirits. Why can't you fellows ever take me anywhere nice?"
She says all this as she crawls out of the furs, moving to the horses. She smiles across at Emeric as she rummages through the saddlebags, looking for something to eat.