The morning sun climbed above the limestone rim of the eastern gorge, bathing the High Terrace of Lathmere in blinding, cold white light that reflected off marble stone railings and gold-trimmed brass domes. Up here, three hundred feet above the river wharves, the air was sharp, thin, and fragrant with dried lavender and crushed pine needles scattered across the stone promenades, fully free of the choking silt stench and damp rot of the lower city.
Master Davin Sorell stood on the raised dais of the Grand Belvedere, his crimson silk academic robes edged with ermine fur billowed gently in the mountain draft. In his gloved right hand, he held a long staff of polished white ash tipped with a star-sapphire deep ring housing. In his left, a scrolled thick parchment patent bearing the gold seal of the Collegiate Senate. Behind him, thirty junior summoners and scholars stood in rigid ranks. Their ritual bronze collars shone like mirrors.
On the tiered marble benches below the dais sat Councilor Vesk and twenty aldermen of the Municipal Senate. He was wrapped in heavy beaver-fur cloaks against the morning frost. Near the back of the pavilion, standing quietly on the cold flat stone slabs without velvet cushions or footstoves, were Pella Rook and Korr Var. Pella wore her practical wool apprentice tunic. Her canvas apron neatly was tied, with Hal Rook’s brass measuring tongs resting in her leather belt. Her fingers were still stained at the knuckles with dark oak-ink and fine powdery pipe…
