He could only shake his head, smiling; "Bastards of bastards, the poor things. I'll think on a name for them, that they'll have some standing if they want to call on it, and forenames too. I'd be...I'd be glad to have them know me as their father. As for the rest of the world...it depends, perhaps, on how my reputation looks in eight months or so."

As he said it, he cast his gaze over his shoulder, towards his spire; wondering perhaps if that, translated into Drabbish, might do—but there were nine other spires to consider, a lack of uniqueness about the notion. Na Srathmarbh? His tongue flicked, considering.

Looking forwards again, he said, quite confidently, "I wouldn't ask or want you to hide them. You are more than capable of protecting them without locking them away from the world or disowning them. Ah..." And here he scuffed his boot along the pebbles, slightly hesitant. "I'm sorry I can't give you more certainty as to the daughter. Her mother, you see, is a pyrii."