"Nothing that couldn't be interrupted," he reassures her. It definitely helps it's exactly the sort of question he's always eager to answer.

He listens to hers in turn, chewing a little on his lower lip and nodding along with it; of course, there's no reason why she should know of Andraste's champion other than his own fond wish that every elf did, regardless of where she might've been born. "That's fair enough; it's not as if his name is noised about so broadly because, as you said, even acknowledging him was rank heresy until recently. The Chantry's shame over striking him from the Chant ran deep."

There's a rueful, bitter note to the words; Myr might cling to his faith as to life itself--but it doesn't mean the Chantry's not been wrong in the past, to its own deep detriment.