Tzilan paused, his hands curling into fists at his sides again before he loosened them, blindly reaching a hand over his shoulder to find Ratha's thick neck.

"I... cannot go. I cannot."

Grimacing, he bowed his head. "Travel of any kind for me requires... great planning and effort and care. Sunlight will kill me, will burn me to ash and cinder. Fire is little better; and to feed over many nights could drain a small party of men to nothing and still leave me ravening to the point of battle-madness. I would be more burden and liability than asset."

He frowned at Saralegui.

"The only significant help I can give would be given from afar. And not without cost; but it may save you, in a moment of most dire need."