In the old hierarchy of the Aperture Court, knowledge of the summit’s commutation rhythms had been guarded more jealously than silver bullion or jade manuals. For twenty years as Chief Judge, Vaska Ren had been one of only three living officials allowed to carry the full timing cipher of the lower returning hub. Even Retrieval Division commanders like Keth Or had been given only the outer edge schedules so that no field officer could ever turn a weapon against the array’s internal joints. Hoarding technical knowledge was how the Court made its senior test judges indispensable. And how it ensured that if a field team rebelled, they would fight blind against the stone.
Now, kneeling in the cold dirt of the dark rock recess with his throat burned mute and his coat hem singed by the first watch’s sparks, Vaska Ren reached out with his right hand, took Commander Keth Or’s intact left wrist, and placed Keth’s gloved fingers directly onto the ash-covered shale slab.
Keth Or stiffened in surprise for half a second. Throughout their twelve years in the Court’s service, the Chief Judge and the Retrieval Commander had belonged to rival bureaus that communicated strictly through sealed brass tallies and formal audit demands. Six nights ago at the lower shrine, they had still stood on opposite sides of a burning fire bowl before both men chose to break their Court seals for young Halin’s sake.
