Morning light slips through the shutters as the soundward fades. Harbor carts, footsteps, and distant voices return to the guesthouse, ordinary noise filling the room.
The grey cloth still covers the ledgers, vellum, older notes, and sealed crescent. Bren remains beside Sil’Thalis, her presence quiet and uninsistent.
Bren
The wards held through the night. I will renew the latch-ward after breakfast, but nothing here appears disturbed.
She gathers the unused quill and sealed ink, placing them beside the covered records rather than uncovering anything. Sunlight catches the faint blue edge of the cloth.
Bren
We should eat, check the wayhouse reports, and decide whether Voss’s trail can wait another day. I will follow your choice, without adding meaning to it.
Bren
If you want the archive informed, I can send a brief factual notice. If not, the records remain here under cover until we choose otherwise.
Bren opens the shutters another handspan, letting clean morning air cross the room. The covered evidence and silent crescent remain untouched, awaiting Sil’Thalis’s response.