Raven grows
impatient. “What is your game this time?”
“Patience,”
replies the Angel, a little distractedly. “All will be clear at
the right time.”
“Time?”
Raven asks, looking at him. “What time? There is no time here.”
The Angel
stares into the middle distance, listening intently, but not to
Raven's question. There is a rustle of winds and the Angel frowns.
Another rustle causes the Angel to mutter something Raven cannot
hear. A third rustle and he speaks. “See to it,” he says to no
one, turning back to Raven.
“It
appears that events have taken an unexpected turn,” he tells Raven.
“We shall have to continue our discourse on another occasion.”
