Johan
The alley opened up into a larger street. They were now long past the centre of Hama Valon where the marketplaces and the main inns, taverns, shops and routes in and out were. The surrounding buildings were now mostly residential, a couple of smaller shops dotted here and there. The street was a lot quieter, enough that there was no worry about losing Jaren in the crowds. A group children played at tag nearby, and they stopped to watch the two pass. Those in uniform weren’t often seen here. The Red Lion had supposedly been here when Hama Valon had been a village. It had been popular, then, but now it mostly served the local residents; it was, therefore, the perfect place. It wouldn’t be busy.
Johan glanced back at Jaren, biting back on a snort. He wasn’t exactly the tallest person in the world, and the thought of him carrying Asha’man Gareth or M’Hael Zeen was a ridiculous one. He was slowly coming to believe that the M’Hael wasn’t entirely crazy, but he was still someone to be wary around, and Johan wanted to keep avoiding him.
“I think if I tried to carry Asha’man Gareth,” he said, “I’d end up breaking my back and he’d have to Heal me. Somehow, I can’t really see that working particularly well. But.” He paused, shrugging his shoulders and thinking of the offer Tristram had made. A guaranteed job…He bit his lip. “I don’t know what I’m actually going to do. I want to finish the training, yes, get the cloak even if I never wear it, but, after that… Some… Well, sometimes I don’t even know what I’m going to do tomorrow.” He paused again, and then grinned, attempting to push the subject away from him. “Are you sure you’re not asking because you want me to be your Warder? I mean, I’ve got you this far without getting us lost, and then I’m going to drag you all the way back again. And then you'd never have to see me go. Perfect, no?”