By the time Ilyra and Seyun climbed the eastern residence terrace from the old spear court, the late winter sun had dipped below the upper cloud bank, bathing the grey limestone walls of White Heron Hall in a cold, copper-colored twilight. Outside the carved cedar doors of Senior Steward Osen Tal’s private residence quarters, two inner-court Bronze spearmen stood on guard with their iron pikes grounded across the threshold, while two more patrolled the flagged courtyard directly beneath the second-story porch shutter.
The watch corporal—a veteran spearman with a frost-scarred nose who had served under Hall Mistress Soran at the Red Chute—saluted Ilyra as she approached with her marsh-iron spear in her left hand and Seyun half a step behind her shoulder.
“He knocked on the inside panel twenty minutes ago, Disciple Ilyra,” the corporal reported in a low voice. He gestured toward the heavy oak bar securing the door from the outside. “After we caught the mountain runner trying to push a slate through the lower drainage grate, the steward asked for ten minutes of speech with you before the evening drum. He specified that you were to enter alone.”
“Hall Mistress Soran registered Seyun of Ash Reed as a joint witness to every step of this hearing, Corporal,” Ilyra replied calmly. “Where my spear goes in this hall, the witness goes. Has anyone else entered or left the wing since noon?”
