The council chamber emptied slowly, the captains and advisors dispersing to their duties, their faces grim, their voices low. The fragments remained on the table, their symbols still pulsing faintly in the firelight, as if they were listening, waiting.
Kaelen did not move. He sat at the head of the table, his winter-gray eyes fixed on the stones, his hands resting on the arms of his chair. I remained beside him, my hand on his, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles.
"The South," he said finally, his voice flat. "The investigation points south."
I nodded. "The Church's archives. Cassian's court. The capital."
He was silent for a long moment, his jaw tightening. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, harder.
