Shoeing a horse hot is a time consuming business, and there's a bit of back and forth before he's satisfied enough to dowse the steel and set to the work of hammering in the new shoes. A proper farrier might do this in another place, but in his village it was the blacksmith's business and he sees no reason not to offer it among his services here, too. It's good work, tangible work, like settling into this city and like learning the way to be the person his fellows feel comfortable talking to.

(That's a little less straightforwardly honest, but for now all he's doing is listening, and there's nothing nefarious about staying abreast of recent events. This city is not a safe place.)

"Easy, now," he says, and, "Be still," as he takes hammer and nails to the horse's new shoes. Thoughtfully, to Integra, "What d'you think of 'Althalus'?"