The filing arrived on Hollin's desk at ninth bell, twenty minutes after the registry had stamped it.
She read it standing — she was never in a hurry, but the document was short enough that sitting down for it would have given it more weight than it deserved. Twenty-three pages. Brightforge's margin note on page seven. The crossed-out clause eleven. The new language: Civic access. No devotional condition.
She set it on the desk. Aligned it with the edge.
Brother Evren stood in the doorway, hands at his sides, vestments still carrying the faint smell of lamp oil from the morning templework. He'd brought the document himself — hand-delivered from the registry rather than waiting for the institutional courier — which meant he understood what it was before she told him.
"How many copies are filed," she said.
"Two. Registry and Archive. The Archive copy was hand-delivered by the Ordinator's aide."
"Salla."
"Yes."
