The nineteen men stood in a grand circle of light, their silhouettes dark against the golden amber mist that rose from the mountain bedrock.
Not a single weapon was drawn. The headsman’s broadsword remained sheathed across Lord Ren’s plate armor. The sixteen skeleton keys hung motionless upon Ren-the-Cinder’s chest. The bronze air-powered arm of Unit Ren rested gently at his side. They didn’t advance upon the sheepskin boundary line. They stood with their boots planted upon the granite flags. They looked down at the older man who knelt weeping in the slush.
Ren Prime stood behind the master drafting stone base, his mammoth ivory awl poised over the witness ledger.
“Let the depositions be entered into the record,” Ren Prime said, his voice ringing with formal, court gravity. “In the Matter of the Seventh Void. Witness Number One: Vane Vale, Master Factor of the Maritime Exchange. State your settling for the court.”
Vane adjusted his marten-fur collar. He stepped forward until the polished toes of his calfskin boots touched the outer edge of the sheepskin tape.
“I spent twenty-two years building an empire of timber, silk, and naval stores,” Vane said, his voice rich, dry, and sharp as spiced wine. “In my world, Ren, I was the wealthiest man between Low-Khorat and the Great Reef. I lived in a palace of carved cedar. I had three thousand clerks recording my invoices, and four frigates named after our mother. Do you know how I died?”
