He looks mildly taken-aback that she would know that. He's certainly never known a human who cared to distinguish between Dalish clans at all, let alone know their usual stomping grounds, but perhaps it's just one manifestation of Clan Lavellan's newfound fame. It's precisely the sort of thing the Keeper is afraid of, and it makes him uneasy.

"You don't have to tell me that," he says wearily. They hadn't been as far away as they might have been, but when he'd had to double back through Orlais as soon as he'd reached Ferelden, it's all the more frustrating. But now, at least, he's in no worse of a position to access current information than anyone else is.

The question strikes a nerve not because it's unreasonable at all, but because he's spent the past few weeks growing increasingly nervous about the fact that he isn't here at Ellana's request. He hasn't sent word ahead, not trusting what her human advisors might do with the information. She might well not want him here at all--but the Keeper's instructions had made it clear that the Inquisitor's blessing for Corentin's mission is optional.

"Not as such," he murmurs, "but I assume she could use a friendly face. What's your business with her?"