This is far beyond what Sansa understands and she finds herself— frustrated, somewhat. It's irrational to think it. By all accounts she's on foreign soil, there are no expectations for her to be familiar with customs or standards.

"We could use something like it, back home," she diverts her frustration to something else instead. "It would save on tallow for the candles. Firewood, too."

And something else. Far in the future. "Do you mean to say you're from here, Lady Randvi? But from another time? This is a mirror of your world."