The amber glow along the witness rail did not flicker. It settled into the grain of the native limestone, burning with the steady, quiet heat of a bake-oven fire that has reached its embers.
ARMY ACCOUNT SETTLED / HOST GAIN REMAINS DUE
Cale lowered his ivory divider to the table, his clerk’s fingers still dusted with lampblack from the charter vellum. He leaned closer to the stone, tracing the margin where the new line had opened.
“It is an audit balancing entry,” Cale said, his voice dropping into the dry, careful cadence he had learned in the Survey House archives. “The March Ledger’s military account has been discharged because the issuer surrendered the instrument in open court and the designated party consumed the obligation. But the Hall of Witness operates under Claim-Ledger Law. It cannot close a master roll while the party who spoke the binding proclamation retains the material gains generated by the claim.”
Noll Vey rested his remaining right stone palm flat against the amber letters. The stone felt hot—not like sunlight on a porch step, but like an iron skillet left too long near a smithy draft.
“Prit,” Noll said, his gravelly voice low. “Put the arithmetic on the slate.”
