At the top of the terrace stairs, Senior Elder Tor Ves stopped and glared down as Seyun lowered himself onto the edge of the granite teacher’s stone, propping his braced left foot out straight on his walking pole. Meanwhile, Mina set her guild satchel down beside him. Then she pulled out a stack of clean, unruled prescription paper. Two paces away, Joren eased himself down onto a low wooden stool on the porch edge, resting Elder Hesh’s six-week cold and exact log open across his knees.
“You have no teaching rank in this sect, Seyun!” Tor Ves called down from the landing, his hand resting on the handle knob of his waist blade. Meanwhile, the two leftover axe-spear guards waited beside Bel Sar. “Your auction tally permits you to bid on healing lots and receive treatment in the outer shed. If you try to incite a riot among the outer students, guest law won’t protect you from expulsion!”
Seyun looked up the stairs without rising from the granite block. He didn’t raise his voice into an orator’s challenge, nor did he launch into a denunciation of Ash Reed’s council. He spoke in the calm, level tone of a senior apprentice answering a routine question in an apothecary shop.
