[ Bastien wobbles his head in silent equivocation. Maybe Byerly has told him at some point that Benedict knows he's a spy, but even if not, Bastien knows they were together in Val Chevin, while Byerly picked off Vints with a crossbow from the deck of their doomed ship. Benedict must know he's not a fraction as helpless as he playacts. ]

I'm certain it's more than he doesn't like the idea of you needing it, [ for any number of reasons, ] not that he doesn't want you to have it if you do.

[ After a moment, thoughtfully: ]

I don't know if it has anything to do with it, but it is hard for us, sometimes, you know. Magic. It's scary. It's weird. And it doesn't always seem fair. You are not the only dangerous people in the world, of course, but I worked for years to be dangerous— [ With a smile; he's a little chubby around the middle, he's eating soup, it's funny. ] —but any fifteen-year-old mage could still set me on fire without having to sweat.