Over the course of her search Iomedae decides she also needs to figure out if Aroden is on the up-and-up - whether He's the kind of thing that can make and will keep agreements with mortals, i.e. whether His Law is all it's cracked up to be. This is generally regarded as pretty uppity of her but Aroden seems if anything kind of thrilled about it and she gets confirmation that He will never use her against her own purposes.

Wow. He likes this woman. ...Goddess-to-be. He'll let some of that approval leak across the Mindspeech link. 

:Tell me about Aroden?: 

:...He's dead. About a century ago. Most of what I know about Him is in here.:

Oh. 

(...Well, it does seem like pertinent information right now that gods can die, even if it seems so far like this god was - decent, and didn't deserve it.) 

He keeps listening. 

Vanyel does not envy the Heralds currently trying to take charge of Waymeet. 

The town is enormously overcrowded, well above what its infrastructure can support; someone must have made the decision that matters were moving too fast and they couldn't afford to dig latrines and erect shelter for thousands of troops before they arrived and would have to handle it after the fact, and would rush to do it with magic once they had the people for it. Related to all the Gates and all the magic being flung around, the weather is abysmal. The narrow streets are packed with soldiers - not just Valdemaran but Karsite, Ifteli, Rethwellani, mercenary, all mixed together, companies having been split up by who could make it to a Gate on time - everyone keyed up for action, and abruptly faced with no impending battles after all and nowhere for all that nervous energy to go. 

Some soldiers - not Valdemaran - have gotten into the mayor's wine cellar. It's unclear if they had permission for this. The townspeople are mostly hiding inside, which is understandable of them given the mood out in the streets; most of the houses seem to be hosting some soldiers as well, but there's at least some filtering for the ones who would rather prefer to bunker down inside rather than be drunk and raucous outside. Vanyel has passed at least three fights. 

He feels blind and deaf without his mage-sight. (Melody thought she could figure out how to selectively block his ability to use magic without blocking his ability to perceive it, but it would take longer, and he doesn't think that's a good trade right now.) He Fetched a broken wine-bottle away from a drunk man who looked like he might be intending to wield it as a weapon and now his head hurts. 

Which is almost soothing, in a way. It's an easier pain to bear than the emptiness behind everything. 

Stef is there. Not everything in the world is broken. 

And right now, for just a moment, one less thing is broken, because he's in his sister's arms, being squeezed so tightly he can barely breathe. 

"Van - Van - they said you were dead–" 

"I know - I'm sorry - if we'd known sooner I'd have sent word–" 

"Van, you're the last person who needs to be sorry." Squeeze. "I - the Star-Eyed might not be sorry yet but She will be -" 

A snort of laughter that half turns into a sob. "...I missed you." Was that what he meant to say? Does it matter? 

"I head - I'm so sorry about Yfandes - you probably don't want to talk about it but - I - someone's got to pay -" 

"Liss, please, don't - do anything stupid -" 

"Me, stupid? Would I do that? You slander me." 

He clings to her for a moment longer. "I need to go." 

"So do I. Lot of heads need banging together tonight - don't know what they were thinking, rushing the deployment like this, the place is a tinderbox tonight -" Metaphorically and literally. She wouldn't be surprised if buildings are on fire before morning. 

Slowly, reluctantly, Vanyel disentangles himself. "Take care of yourself, Lissa. ...Be careful." 

And she knows he doesn't just mean making sure to dodge broken winebottles. Bigger, scarier things are afoot here. Vanyel warned her that they can't necessarily trust anyone who works for Vkandis and there are way too many Karsite and Ifteli soldiers here for her comfort. Not mages, at least - Karse has almost none to spare and Iftel's are mostly handling Gates from the Iftel end - and at least the bloody gryphons aren't in Waymeet. Though maybe it would better if she could keep an eye on them. 

"I will." 

Vanyel ducks his head, takes Stef's hand, and forges back out into the night to head for the Gate staging-area. 

WINTER IS TERRIBLE AND STEF WANTS AN ENDURE ELEMENTS AGAIN this is objectively not important but it's taking up a really disproportionate amount of Stef's attention. 

He can't even feel the Gate (cast by a tense-looking White Winds mage who gives him a hard-to-read look.) You would think this would be an improvement, but it's actually just unsettling. 

There are a lot of people lined up for the Gate on both sides, but the two of them get priority, apparently. They step through into Haven. 

Haven is four hundred miles further south so it's just unfair that it doesn't feel any warmer. Why does the stupid Gate have to be outside. 

Vanyel is quietly repeating the list of next priorities to himself. And missing Yfandes in a more pragmatic way. He's used to being able to rely on her to track his to-do list. 

He needs to make sure Feniss is all right. And talk to Blai - which he's inclined to do first, it sounds less unpleasant and Leareth assured him that Feniss knew what she was signing up for. But one other thing has to come first, regardless of how painful it's going to be. 

Reach out. It's - a lot harder, without Yfandes there to stop it stop it stop it he needs to focus. 

There she is. :Savil?: He had been half-expecting her to meet him at the Gate-site, but it's...not actually surprising to find her in the Web-focus room instead. 

:Van. ...Welcome back.: 

There's so much unsaid behind those words. So much that does need to be said, eventually, but - later is all right. Van is alive. And he was right to go north, and the magnitude of what Valdemar owes him - and the apology the Heralds owe him - is beyond what words can convey anyway. 

:Where's Brightstar?: Does he know that Vanyel is alive. 

:With the White Winds people still in Haven, I think? - tried to reach him, when we got the message, but he must've been in a Work Room or something.: 

:I need to speak with him as soon as possible.:

He may belong to the Star-Eyed, but he's also Vanyel's son. And Vanyel is oddly certain that his apparent death was critical to setting up the stage - that Brightstar wouldn't have taken things so far, if he had any idea he was working against his father's plans or putting him at risk. 

:Who's our point of contact with White Winds now?: It would have been Jisa, before, but she was very insistent on staying up north with Leareth, even if there's something absurd and almost comical about the concept of Leareth needing the protection of a not quite fifteen-year-old girl.