[She's undeterred. In fact, she picks a particularly pretty and sweet tune and starts playing. She's only half singing it directly to Zhas.]

The ash grove how graceful, how plainly 'tis speaking
The harp through its playing has language for me.
Whenever the light through its branches is breaking,
A host of kind faces is gazing on me.
The friends from my childhood again are before me
Each step wakes a memory as freely I roam.
With soft whispers laden the leaves rustle o’er me
The ash grove, the ash grove alone is my home.

[She takes a breath to continue on to the next verse, quite certain she has Zhas in a kind of annoyed agony that gives her a strange kind of kick. She hasn't felt this kind of mildly wicked glee since she was little and pulling harmless pranks on Gorion and the monks.

But before she can continue to torment him, they're interrupted. It seems there was actually a legitimate concern of the trader that someone might come steal his merchandise in the middle of the night. Because here they are.]

Oh, well, right on time. Or maybe not.