"It's all coming back to me," Jaime assures, somewhat richly to make the sentiment dry. He's better at remembering faces than strange, detached voices that go without names, and as he receives one, he tilts his chin up in acknowledgment. "I am Lannister, but you'd best call me Jaime or I'll think you mean my father. Even all the way out here."

He did have other things in mind, and a mess of new voices, names, and faces to handle coming out of one source. A surreal thing for those of medieval inclinations to take in. "I was forcibly removed from the fog, thanks to a magician. I can't say I've ventured out since.

"The horse was borrowed," he adds, as if to explain his only obstacle. Borrowed is another word for stolen.