He heard a light tread, behind him and to his left, from where the campfires were burning and voices were threading in song to the tune a syrenya played. He turned to the sound.
"Be careful," he called softly. "Unless you want to trip over a sculptor."
"Saevar" an amused voice murmured. A voice he knew well.
"It is, my lord Prince," he replied. "Can you remember a night so beautiful"
Valentin walked over, there was more than enough light by which to see, and sank neatly down on the grass beside him. "Not readily," he agreed. "Can you see Vidomni''s wax