"Of a sort." Wolfram said it without an ounce of hesitation, looking back down to one of the books. It was going on and on about Dwarven processes of mining and refining lyrium - if Orzammar knew this was here, they might just start a war. Or a wave of assassinations. This might just be one he would have to save for himself.

"And you are right about the universities - it would be best not to feed their hunger." Not wanting to draw attention to that one tome, Wolfram began to peer through another one, though not too intensely. He'd learned rudeness didn't often get one anywhere, so he kept most of his apparent focus on her. Wolfram began to pick various tomes up and stuff them into his satchel for transporting back to Skyhold.

"My name is Wolfram. Of Nevarra. I'll assume you're not Professor Dragon, my lady?"