Alain largely watched the performance in silence, still tending to his mount. The woman hadn't been lying when she said her song was magic, he'd started to sense a signature almost as soon as she opened her mouth. It had always been a queer sensation, the spells that bards and their ilk wove, one that was unmistakable to him at that point.
And he sensed yet another signature, now that he thought about it. He didn't have to look over his shoulder to know someone was using a cantrip, nor was he surprised when he did and found it was the one charged with illegal tome possession. He turned his gaze right back around without a word. Blood arts, Necromancy, all of it, nasty stuff from what he'd seen. Sneaking by and occasionally having to stave off the assaults of ungodly beasts and shambling corpses alike had been enough first hand experience to know
exactly why the arts were banned to begin with. Calling their usage crimes against nature itself was as big an understatement if ever there was one.
"I'll keep on guard, around that one..." he said to the steed in a low voice, receiving little more than a snort as he tied the beast to a low hanging branch. He had to admit, it was of far better temperament than the mule they used to plow the fields, back in that god-forsaken dust bowl. It was nice not having to watch for snapping jaws or a wayward kick whenever you so much as got close. Almost as nice as not having to waste energy zapping the damn thing into submission, just to show how easily you could match it's spite
"No telling what might be going on in his head. And I don't care to know either"