"You may, of course, my dear," he replies. "There is peril, of course, as cannot help but be true with, well," and he waves a hand to suggest out there. "But this could be a time for those who act second to make much of themselves. We who remain have more room, perhaps, even as we must mourn those who have gone before."

And at that, he raises his cup.

"To the valiant dead."

Seitouna pulls from his own cup, settles back.

"I have no doubt the shisha relayed the message clearly and accurately. But I would not venture to guess what is in the minds of the mighty, though I note some parallels to, shall we say, tense situations among their lessers, and they never end well for those involved."

He shakes his head.

"I am surprised to see less antagonism from the Matsu, honestly. It argues poorly for them that such is said in such a way."

"On several fronts, yes. One wonders, though, if it is a rising tide, to lift all the boats that have not had holes in their hulls, or the first swell of a tsunami that will crash upon the coasts."

He takes the cup up again.

"I am told that fields sown with salt yield little for long."