"Reading a mind" is something of a misnomer. Psions can, at most, exchange sentences or brief flashes of imagery and even then there's no guarantee they'll be interpreted accurately. Even the most disciplined of minds is a fragmented, disjointed thing, and it takes years of practise to discern anything coherent amidst all the noise.
But apparently Valon isn't troubled in the same ways as other psions. The trio are a shelf of books to him. He leafs through the pages of their thoughts quickly, casually, with little apparent effort. The feeling is bizarre and mercifully brief.
And afterwards, impossibly, Valon is holding Wilhelm's scythe, examining it quizzically. He never seemed to move from his position at the fore of the phase gate.
"Interesting. Little more than a toy, and yet in this backwards society it allows you to dominate in combat?" Valon gives it a skillful twirl. "To be expected. Primitive as you now are, you are nevertheless superior to the rest of the maggots wallowing in their own filth.
"You are of... Erdain, yes? Hah, of course. That makes you House Loydamon." Valon nods. "Erdain Loydamon was named Grandmaster for good reason. We are practically brothers-in-arms."
Valon turns to Serana. "It's muted beneath all those cogs, but you are plainly House Celanrul. I will not pretend that we were allies, but we never came to blows."
And Pudge. "Ah, the ever-engimatic House Gemorai..."
Valon stops. And frowns: no longer bored, but shocked. Perhaps even angry. "No. Wait. You don't just have the genetic markers of House Gemorai. You
are Gemorai. Yes, I can feel the potential within. One of your... grandparents? No, perhaps closer! An immediate family member! One of them must have come from stasis. Explain yourself!"
OOC:
Wilhelm's scythe resource has been Compromised! He loses its +2 bonus to Melee.