"Death is only fertile for the mushrooms, the insects, and the scavengers. Death that doesn't acknowledge itself isn't fertile for anything but the breeding of war, and one tires of war, for any people."

He clucks his tongue, shakes his head. "Very bad for the business of future generations if everyone's perishing in this one. While Taravast won't be my final resting place," and oh, his smile drags into something sardonic at that, "I can hope that as you seize its moments, your will remains strong enough to ensure it won't be in its final throes. If Taravast is the light held up to illuminate this world, then may it not be swallowed by the shadows of its own casting."

Yet he laughs, waving his hand, posture relaxed and careless. Eyes less so, sliding her way, and he winks. "It needn't be my life or my people's lives for me to find the preservation of it precious. To what extent one passing through can offer assistance, Lady Spina, that's the simplicity of what one might do."