Lantern light flickered across the liberated flagstones of the Sky-Bridge as the sound of marching boots settled into order.
Two thousand five hundred rebel soldiers moved through the arched corridors in disciplined silence.
They hauled away the iron barricades, cleared the debris from the lower galleries, and posted sentries at every bridge abutment.
Down in the main plaza, the hundred sect leaders were already signing non-aggression pacts with Princess Valeria’s officers.
The eighty-year stranglehold of the Four Great Pill Houses was broken.
Yet high up on the peaked pavilion roof, above the reach of the shouting crowds, the atmosphere was quiet and calm.
A fresh breeze blew from the southern river, carrying the crisp scent of pine needles and damp stone.
Kaelen Vance sat cross-legged upon a thick wool blanket spread over the cedar shingles, a polished wooden abacus resting on his knees.
