"Them?" There is only one them in the direction she shot. The tip of his gun dips - a very rare thing, and it rises again almost immediately, but not so much of his attention is on aiming this time because his old friends are pulling at him again. Not physically, not yet, but pulling at him nonetheless.

"Them?" he says again. There is only one them here and Roland has never been in the habit of repeating himself, but the urge to be certain is strong. The disbelief when he says it is thick in his voice, thick even through the layers of distance and quiet that come over it when he looks down at this particular sight in this particular place. "Lady-sai, these men are dead."

Fingers rise up from the mass beneath him, grasp, begin tugging insistently at his inseam. He stares toward them, face dispassionate. "Perhaps I should be the one asking what it is you're seeing, lady. Be a shame for you to waste any more bullets."