Fylon came to the supply office at the tenth hour, which was late for him. He usually appeared at dawn or dusk, the quiet hours when the palace corridors were empty and the shadows were long. Lysander looked up from the grain allocation tablets as the old man entered, and he knew immediately that something had shifted.
Fylon closed the door behind him. He didn't sit.
"Rethon," he said. "He met with Teles again."
Lysander set his stylus down. "When."
"Two nights ago. At the harbour. Not in the usual place—a different tavern, further from the docks. He's being more careful."
"Or more nervous."
"Perhaps both." Fylon paused. "The meeting was shorter than usual. Teles gave him something. A small package. I couldn't get close enough to see what it was."
"A package. Not just information."
"No. Something physical. Rethon took it back to the palace. I've been watching his quarters, but he hasn't left them since. Whatever it is, he still has it."
