Up on the frost-rimed granite crescent, Ilyra’s head snapped toward the southern wall of the dome a split second before the sound reached the stairwell.
“Company on the lower switchback,” Ilyra said quietly. Her hand dropped to the balance-point of her ash spear. “Twelve heavy boots in formation—halting at the outer gatehouse.”
Beside her, Daro Kesh’s thumb released the leather peace-loop over his iron crossguard. “And one set of lighter boots walking past the gatehouse toward the lower vault doors alone.”
In the center of the iron ring, Nara Soth’s dark eyes narrowed as she listened to the rhythm of that solitary step on the frozen flat stone slabs outside.
“He’s two hours earlier than the monthly lamp-relighting schedule,” Nara said softly. Her chin lifted a fraction of an inch inside the iron collar. “One of the outer edge relay posts down by the gorge bridge must have noticed the drop in the backup drainage line when you shifted the fourth loop’s pressure.”
On the third bronze tread, Seyun closed his Account Book, slipped the charcoal stick into its leather loop. Then he slid both the ledger and Master Uren’s broken stone tablet into his canvas satchel, strapping it tight across his shoulder.
