“Behold,” says the man in the red cassock, whose name, we’ll find out eventually, is Sanguoît. “Your chance at freedom.”

Yael and Silhouine, dehooded, are busy blinking and making faces in the afternoon sun.

“I said behold!”

They behold it.

“Freedom,” notes Yael, “looks like a cave.”

“A cave wherein the last of the masters of the High Age hid his masterwork: the means to challenge the Iron Heart in its own–” (he continues in this vein for a while here) “–OUR FREEDOM.”

“Wait, whose?” says Silhouine. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

After that the cave seems like the safest option.