Nicoli had expected a trap of some sort,a pit fall or barbed arrows dripping with posion. But that hadn't been the case. He then realized that the trap wasn't for him, but perhaps for animals? He looked to the fire again. Blood would have worked better he thougt. Dark blue eyes continued to scan the enviornment, he was wary for deception.

After a brief moment those dark and pasionless eyes rested on Zande. This was his man, there was no doubt about that. With a roll of his shoulders Nicoli pushed back his cloak, its magic stopping and resting as a deep green color, he showed his own hands, bare of weapons. But weapons could certainly be seen on his belt, swords, a dagger, pouches, hand-cross bow. Nicoli was a walking armory to be sure.

The words Zande spoke meant nothing to him, he didn't understand them in the slightest. "Do you speak the trade tongue?" He asked in common, his voice as flat and dead as his eyes.