"No, not-- It's complicated. The Keeper..." Sorrel always did that; she was his mother, but he never called her anything but the Keeper, "... I'll tell you later. I'm not hiding anything really dire from you, I promise."

He knows that isn't any help. Another tact, then: Sorrel tilts his head conspiriatorily.

"C'mon, Cyril, half these shems are templars, I have a right to be a little nervous."