He knows that she's there, and it is an easy thing to make certain that her chambers are only steps from the hall, the door gaping wide and a steaming bath waiting for her; clean clothing on the bed.
Dream waits until she has the worst of the blood, ash, and grit off of her before he appears.
It is odd, she thinks, how the changeable nature of the castle in the Dreaming reminds her of the shifting corridors in the palace in Caemlyn these days.
Sometimes she is not quite certain which is the more real.
Still, Dream she knows, and it is Dream that she turns her head to smile serenely at, telling him,
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With a faintly weary sigh, Moiraine looks up at the stained glass, studying it for a few moments before she starts toward her chambers.
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Dream waits until she has the worst of the blood, ash, and grit off of her before he appears.
"Would you like me to wash your hair, Moiraine?"
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Sometimes she is not quite certain which is the more real.
Still, Dream she knows, and it is Dream that she turns her head to smile serenely at, telling him,
"That would be kind of you, if you would."
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He informs her, and kneels down by the basin to begin lathering her hair while she lets the heat relax her,
"Things are getting more violent."
It is a statement inviting her to talk about her worries, not a request that she stop what she is doing. He understands.
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