[ Ianthe claims her own holy name in Mercymorn's presence, and the older Lyctor is stilled, her foot on the sand itself inert, a single straight line drawn up through it into the rest of her. She is nearly as much a tower as the lighthouse she looks out to. ]

He made it official, then.

[ There is something odd about her voice, something dammed and diverted. She wiggles the craft once more, the strange sea waters sloshing about its sides. ]

I hope it swallows you back up, and never vomits you back out. [ It could so easily be cruel; she could so easily be cruel. She isn't, which may be worse. ] I'm sure you're doing quite well for yourself. You always did have a survivor's knack.

[ That is not a compliment. ]