“So you and your tribe,” he asks, “You move freely in the Weave?”
“We do.”
“You are not lost?”
The nomad roars with laughter. “Lost? How can I be lost? I am right here?”
“But here in the Weave, not in the Warp where you belong.”
“Foolish bird! The arrogance of the Forest is that it has always presumed to know what's right for men. To know their hearts. I could return to my Vatican cell by morning, but why should I want to when there are such wonders to behold right here?”
