The Session Chamber of Municipal Hall smelled of polished walnut, wet wool overcoats, and the stale, smoky beeswax used to seal tax rolls. A massive coal fire crackled in the wide granite hearth. But the heat didn’t reach the long horseshoe table where nine city councilmen sat in tense, defensive silence, their faces shadowed beneath the high timber ceiling.
Corvin Hest stood before the grand map of Lathmere that hung across the western wall. A amazing six-foot rendering of the city painted on varnished calfskin thick parchment, detailing every academy palace, merchant wharf, and canal gate in gold and azure leaf. He didn’t hold an orator’s scroll or a scholar’s ivory pointer. He held a thick, blunt stick of scarlet grease pencil salvaged from the Lowbank cart depots.
“This is the official academy report submitted by Master Davin Sorell at eight o’clock this morning,” Corvin said, his dry, rasping voice carrying through the vaulted chamber. He held up a gold-trimmed parchment sheet bearing the three-ringed seal of the Summoners’ Guild. “It reports riverhead at four feet below the spillway crest. It describes the condition of the lower channels as ‘optimal, ringing, and calm.’”
Corvin let his hand fall open. The gold-trimmed parchment fluttered downward, landing facedown on the wet flat stone slabs in the muddy tracks of the councilmen’ boots.
