"None whatsoever. Some things truly are the province of the whims of chance. No one can know everything." Not even herself. In this particular case, she did not care to set a precedent of telling anyone the minutia of their life. Why she'd never get a moment's peace! Her blind eyes turned to the direction of the swishing, muttering brooms and reflected that it would provide her more of them. Sometimes it seemed foolish to keep the nags around and yet they made themselves useful after a fashion.

Matoya cradled the cup in her hands, appreciating the relief its warmth gave to her aching joints. She had been feeling her age more and more lately. A portent that perhaps soon the end could come. Not likely when these heroes couldn't divine for themselves what to do with their lives much less how to resolve everything. Irksome. The foolishness of youth. Wasted on the young. "It's not the same, you realize. Not the same at all."

She was certain he was thinking of both Garland's defeat and ending the destructive spell centered around that accursed tree. One would not cancel out the other. Best to dissuade him of that notion before he brought it up.