Glyph moved to settle into a crouch beside him. ‘I name you the Watch. In our old language: Yedan.’ Narad grunted. ‘I do little else.’ ‘No. For the time of night, when you wake. When you rise and walk the camp. The time of night when your haunts return to you. Your nerves tremble. A restless thing takes you, a thing you cannot name, unless you clothe it in your deepest fears. You wake and stand, when others would fight back into sleep, into losing themselves again. This is a terrible vigil, a solitary vigil. It is the vigil of one who stands alone.’
