Renaya clicks her tongue against her teeth. "Give me a moment," she says. Though in your short acquaintance, she has generally been a little withdrawn, and certainly not confrontational, you know from conversations with Yelnar and the townsfolk that Renaya has a reputation for being formidable and stern. Her sharp, no-nonsense tone is the first tangible evidence you've had of that. She will answer when she's good and ready, and not before.
She steps back to take in the door frame as a whole, one hand over her mouth as she stares at it through narrowed eyes. Those nearby can see her lips moving, though silently; whatever internal monologue she is keeping up is trying to make its way out, perhaps.
"No!" she cries suddenly, and rolls her eyes ceilingward. "Not life. Or at least, not life as we think of it."
She turns to the others, a faintly smug smirk on her face. Her tone turns to one many of you would recognize from the more pedantic instructors back at the School, when they think they've got a particularly clever problem for you to solve.
"As I said, these statues are of Valerman make. Not the mountains, and the dwarves there," she says, looking briefly at Ephwrath. "But the fields and forests of the southern part of the country. What was Valerma's strength before the War? What made their nation stand out? Their talents at growing things, particularly agriculture."
She stops there, and lifts her eyebrows with an unspoken question, looking expectantly at each of you in turn. Looking for the answer to the riddle.