Inric and Merianethel are standing on a long walkway which crosses the open ground in the middle of the clanhold, overlooked on all sides by the dwellings in the walls. A small crowd gathers with them, but most of the clan are on the grass below. The nexus building stands apart, a small octagonal structure with a wide door. People are emerging from the door, coming forwards tentatively to where eight figures are waiting. They step forwards, each bearing a cup for the welcome. Inric watches his grandmother, a long-standing member of the Wyrte, as she holds out her cup to one of the Kasith-Varouin. After the ritual drink, the two sets of eight bow to each other, their hands held open with fingers interlinked. Inric winces internally; the last time he saw that gesture was on Ossechia, when he had been greeted by one of their Elect.