Gweyn frowned in alarm.
“Don’t eat them,” she said, urgently, her eyes darting back and forth. “I don’t like this. It feels like a trap, or a setup. Those breads could be poisoned or doused with sleeping draught. Or she could have planted evidence of a crime and called the constabulary. We should leave and wait for her outside.”
Her lip curled.
“And who puts food on the floor
? That is very bad form. Food should sit on the table.”
Gweyn looked between Narissa and Visara.
“She knew exactly when we were coming. There is no business so urgent that she would have to leave yet somehow have the time to write us a note and leave us food. Let’s go.”
She paused, then cast a simple cantrip, trying to get a sense of what could possibly be going on.