Under Seyun’s bandaged palm, the hairline seam in the northern face of the black bronze pillar shook with the steady, four-count descent of the mountain’s weight. When their group had first crept across the outer supply shrine beneath the put out monthly lamps—before they had even unbolted the door to this twelve-bed vault—the distant voice at the top of the column had asked a single question through the stone. Why the newest visitor to the Hollow Summit had brought willing enemies with him.
At the time, hidden under sacks of bitter reed on Osen Tal’s supply cart, Seyun had not answered because answering would have given their position away to the shrine sentries. Now, standing inside the ring of twelve numbered beds where Daro Kesh had just sheathed his blade at Mina’s word and Ilyra was holding the outer threshold with a White Heron spear, Seyun had his answer ready.
He didn’t shout up the shaft. He pitched his voice at the exact quiet, level rhythm he had used to guide Halin’s breathing turn. That let the hollow bronze skin carry the syllables upward.
“You asked me when we crossed the outer court why I brought willing enemies into this castle,” Seyun said into the metal seam. “I brought them because a man who studies only with people who agree with him—or people who have been wired to obey him—eventually mistakes his own habits for the truth. Each of them sees something my own pride or haste would otherwise make…
