Kezra Venn blew the fine white limestone dust from the final anchor mark in the southwest corner stone. Then, the alum-tanned leather binding of her survey notebook grew hot against her ribs.
She stood upright in the center of the newly shifted square, holding the heavy volume in both hands. The morning wind, blowing hard and dry from the bitter salt flats, whipped the hem of her waxed coat against her boots. But she barely felt the chill. Beneath the thick split-oak covers, the stitched rag-paper leaves were shaking with a subtle, rhythmic hum that rang in harmony with her heartbeat.
Beside her, Fellis Dain wiped a smear of white stone meal from his brow. His eyes were wide as he watched the pages of the notebook.
“Is it opening?” he whispered, his voice hushed with respect.
Kezra turned the heavy calfskin pages slowly until she reached Page 008. There, the master advancement ledger of her class was inscribed.
For five seasons, through two hundred and fifty chapters of bitter struggle, narrow escapes, and careful measurement across four hundred leagues of hostile territory, the third tier of that ledger had remained blank. A faint, unawakened framework of ruled grey lines waiting for the twelfth circuit to be approved.
