Sama'el laughed. Indeed, he had been busy. With Vanator's help, he began to move the rocks and rubble where they needed to go. It was good to have the helping hand, and Vanator's back was broader, his muscles bigger. If he made Sama'el look a little weak in comparison, that was all right. They all had their different sets of strengths and weaknesses. "I only wish I were better with the Web," he said, "and I might have followed it to wherever you were..." But it was useless to think about what-ifs. Vanator was back now, seemed not to be damaged beyond repair. He was in the Sanctuary, though. There was healing to be found here. "I'm not sure, though," he said. "Like you, I'm an Ankal now. There have been some grumbles about whether it's appropriate for me to be in the Watch anymore. But Ronan's my apprentice, and Mealla too, although she's a Stormsong of the Diamond Clan. My pavilion is fairly self-sufficient, but if Oriana blesses us with children, I suppose I will have to settle in with my pavilion without hieing off on some adventure every few weeks. Which will be sad, because I'm never happier than riding the Sea on Dohaina's back. Well." Such was the life of a Drykas. "It would be nice to say I was a Rayvehk before I'm put to pasture." |