“Done,” Chief Examiner Vaska Ren said, his rasping voice sealing the terms across the lower vault.
He walked to the heavy oak entrance doors. He pushed the left panel open three inches into the gray pre-dawn snow. Then he spoke to the captain waiting thirty paces away at the boundary stones.
“Captain,” Vaska Ren called out clearly into the freezing mountain air, “stand the cohort down to camp quarters at the lower gatehouse and light the monthly outer edge lamps on schedule. No soldier, clerk, or relief judge is to approach the inner shrine doors for the next twenty-four hours—until tomorrow evening’s lamp is lit.”
Outside in the snow, the captain saluted with his grounded array-lance. “Understood, Chief Judge! Shall we hold the outer edge relief until your bell?”
“Hold the gatehouse until tomorrow evening’s lamp,” Vaska Ren said.
He stepped back from the threshold. Then he pulled the heavy oak panel shut against the drifting snow, motioning for Daro Kesh to drop the iron inside bar back into its brackets. Across the room by the corner cabinet, the two shrine attendants, Brenn and young Marn, let out a slow, trembling breath. Meanwhile, Senior Steward Osen Tal remained seated on the stone bench by the stairwell wall with the hemp cord still looped around his wrists.
