Lady Signe Lorr arranged the three completed vellum folios across the green baize of her portable writing desk, weighting each corner with a square brass coin from the imperial treasury.
The early dawn light had brightened from pale ash to a cold, pearlescent silver, revealing the fine river dust that coated the furniture of the corner chamber. Through the casement window, the low drone of wagon wheels and the distant clop of cavalry mounts could be heard from the northern road—the vanguard baggage train was crossing the marsh levee, less than a league away.
“The inquest is complete,” Signe announced, her voice ringing off the low joists with the cool, unvarnished authority of the Northern Assize. “Three identical copies, drafted in judicial book-hand, sealed with the twin raptors of the High Court, and countersigned by civilian witness Jon Hale and apothecary Sister Oda.”
Sir Cael Ardent sat on the edge of the rope bedstead, his father’s gray wool blanket draped over his shoulders, his hands resting flat upon his knees. His color had returned, but his eyes were dark with the profound, terrible clarity of a man who had seen the gears of the machine that had owned his flesh.
