The bridge to Capital Annex Hearing Room Three was made of glass, iron, and bad intentions.
That mattered.
It rose above the inner transit spine in a long, enclosed span that let the city look at itself while pretending it was only traveling. Beneath the glass floor, route maps were etched in layered lines of pale light: district roads, harbor links, annex feeders, freight spines, market loops. People walking across the bridge could see the city arranged below them like a thing that had been numbered, categorized, and gently strangled in advance.
The archive cart rolled at the center of the span under public witness guard.
Its iron wheels clicked softly over the glass seams. The black archive wrap around the files had already been resealed twice. The south approach route plate rested beneath one corner of the cart in its protective tray. The broken lock cylinder from the hidden plate sat in a padded evidence case. The injunction sheet, now stamped and witnessed, rode with the board seals in Sorel's possession.
Kael walked beside the cart with Mara on his right and Verya on his left.
Behind them came the witness line in a loose but disciplined column: Quill, the Continuity Assessor; the capital observer from the ministry hearing, black case in hand and expression increasingly bleak; the route clerk who had corrected the docket and now looked like he wanted to prove he deserved to be in the room; the route workers who had raised the first plate; Bren, visibly irritated by the bridge's opinion of itself; Joren, who kept glancing down through the glass as though offended by how much the city resembled a ledger; Sella from prefecture oversight; and the marshals carrying the official chain of custody tags.
Ahead, at the far end of the bridge, a capital annex checkpoint stood beneath a steel arch labeled with four route categories and one word in large pale letters:
PRINCIPAL
That mattered.
The checkpoint was staffed by two capital security clerks in white gloves and a route lieutenant whose coat had the thin silver trim used by people who believed they were protecting procedure from the dangerous lower instinct of ordinary reality. A small intake desk stood in front of the arch. Behind it, a route slate waited with an empty principal lane and a narrower support lane to the left.
Kael saw the lanes and almost smiled.
Almost.
The clerk at the intake desk looked up as the cart approached and his expression changed by a degree when he saw the witness line.
He lifted a hand.
"Archive transfer to Hearing Room Three will pause for principal verification."
A beat.
"Support personnel remain to the left."
Another beat.
"Claimants and principal witnesses proceed right."
That mattered.
Verya stopped walking.
The line behind her halted at once.
The clerk's eyes flicked toward her, then away.
Kael saw it.
He had seen enough of rooms like this now to know the difference between a clerk who was following instructions and a clerk who was trying to hide a habit by dressing it as procedure. The line was obvious. Principal right. Support left. The room had already made its decision before the facts had crossed the bridge.
Verya's jaw tightened, but she did not speak first.
The clerk cleared his throat and gestured with the slate.
"Route Analyst Thorn should proceed to the support intake point."
Silence.
That mattered.
Kael did not move at first.
Neither did Mara.
The cart kept rolling only because the marshals behind it were too disciplined to break formation.
Verya's voice, when it came, was quiet enough to make the checkpoint feel smaller.
"I'm not going left."
The clerk blinked. "Excuse me?"
Verya looked at him with the kind of calm that came from spending too many years in rooms where people thought making her smaller was the same thing as making the room simpler.
"I said I'm not going left."
A breath.
"I am the analyst."
Another beat.
"Use the principal lane."
The clerk's mouth tightened.
"The support lane is for technical review personnel."
Kael looked at him.
"No."
A breath.
"She's not technical review personnel."
Another beat.
"She's the reason your room has anything to review."
That mattered.
The clerk stiffened. "The lane assignment is standard."
Verya turned her head just enough to look at him fully.
"For people you want to move out of the principal line."
The lieutenant at the checkpoint frowned. "We are not discussing identity policy. The room is under capacity rules."
Mara's eyes went cold.
"No."
A breath.
"You're discussing who gets to stand where while the capital decides whether to admit what happened on the road."
That mattered.
The lieutenant's expression tightened. "The support intake is not an insult."
Verya's mouth barely moved.
"It's never called an insult when the room wants the smaller chair to feel like a favor."
That mattered.
The clerk swallowed. "Director instructions require the analyst to remain with the technical rail."
Sorel stepped forward before anyone else could.
"Whose instructions."
The clerk hesitated.
"Capital routing protocol."
Sorel's tone was flat enough to scrape metal.
"No."
A breath.
"That's a habit wearing a protocol badge."
That mattered.
The capital observer from the ministry hearing leaned toward the intake desk and said, with visible restraint, "The capital annex accepted provisional review naming the route analyst in the principal analytic line."
The clerk looked startled. "I haven't received the updated intake summary."
Sorel held up the response sheet.
"Then read it."
The clerk took the page, glanced over the line, and the color drained from his face.
That mattered.
He looked up once, then down again.
"Principal analytic line."
Verya didn't react much. But Kael saw the smallest release in the set of her shoulders.
Not triumph.
Recognition.
The board chair's seal on the capital response had made the title real enough that even the bridge could not pretend otherwise.
The clerk looked trapped now between his lane assignment and the paper in his hand.
The lieutenant at the arch took one step forward and tried for authority.
"The principal lane is reserved for claimant, representative, and principal witnesses."
Kael's answer was immediate.
"She is principal witness."
The lieutenant looked at him. "The route file names her analyst."
Kael's gaze did not shift.
"Yes."
A breath.
"And the capital response names her principal analytic witness."
Another beat.
"So pick the paper you're obeying."
That mattered.
The lieutenant's jaw hardened. "We received no order to alter intake classifications."
Sorel's eyes narrowed.
"Then you received a failure to read order."
The clerk at the desk flinched.
That mattered.
Bren muttered, "This city is built by people who hate being corrected by paper."
Joren glanced at him. "That's because paper survives them."
Bren gave him a look. "That was almost clever."
"I'm not sure whether to thank you."
"Don't."
"Too late."
Sella sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "If you two become a distraction on the bridge, I'm leaving you with the checkpoint clerks."
Joren brightened. "That sounds oddly punitive."
"It is."
"Should I be insulted?"
"Yes."
That mattered.
The board chair's seal packet shifted in Sorel's hand as she stepped up beside Kael.
"The injunction holds the south approach, harbor spine, east market line, and district water link under public route custody."
A breath.
"The analyst is principal line."
Another beat.
"And the archive leaves with the witness line."
The lieutenant's gaze moved from the seal to the archive cart and then to Verya.
He clearly wanted to hold onto the lane distinction as though the room could still be made to behave by repetition.
Instead he said, "The support line is still open."
Verya's face went still.
Kael knew that expression now.
Not hurt.
Not surrender.
The decision not to indulge a room in pretending a reduced chair was a neutral chair.
Verya's voice stayed calm.
"I'm not being moved to the side again."
A breath.
"Not on the bridge."
Another beat.
"Not in the room."
Another beat.
"And not because your clerks prefer a cleaner shape."
That mattered.
The lieutenant gave a tiny exhale of impatience. "This isn't about preference."
Mara's answer came as a dry blade.
"It always is."
A breath.
"You just call it structure when you want it to sound respectable."
That mattered.
The clerk at the desk looked between them, visibly wishing for the first time in his career that the bridge would swallow him.
The capital observer from the ministry hearing finally stepped forward and unfolded his black case with a sharp click.
He produced the ministerial relay sheet and held it up.
"Capital Annex Hearing Room Three."
A breath.
"Principal witness line."
Another beat.
"Route Analyst Thorn."
Another beat.
"Read the words you're standing in front of."
The lieutenant's expression tightened. He took the paper reluctantly and read.
Then he looked up.
That mattered.
The clerk's face had gone pale now in the way of a man realizing he had stood at the edge of an established habit and found the habit no longer had enough legal backing to hide behind.
The lieutenant folded the sheet, handed it back, and stepped aside.
The principal arch opened.
That mattered.
No ceremony.
No apology.
Just a doorway no longer able to pretend the route analyst belonged anywhere except the line that could read the road.
Verya did not thank him.
She did not have to.
She walked through the principal arch with the archive cart at her side.
The witness line followed.
Kael moved with Mara beside him, and as they passed under the capital letters, he felt the strange pressure of a city that had decided, very late, to stop being casual about what it had been trying to hide.
The interior of Capital Annex Hearing Room Three sat beyond the bridge like a chamber built for a higher class of argument. The ceiling was tall and white. The walls held route maps in layered glass panes lit from below. There were three tables, each with route ledgers and archive pads already arranged. At the dais sat the capital hearing board: the chair in a dark gray coat, two board members, a capital auditor with a thin black badge, and a deputy clerk whose expression suggested she had already heard too much and would prefer the room not give her more.
Ferrin Transit Trust was there.
Of course it was.
The representative sat with two aides and a utility chain laid neatly on the table beside her. Her expression had become visibly colder in the capital room, as though she had decided that being challenged by the local annex had been unpleasant and being challenged in front of the capital board was an insult she intended to remember professionally.
Quill and Sorel took their places with the witness line. The board chair looked at the archive cart, then at the route plate case, then at the broken seal tray.
He tapped one finger on the table.
"Open the archive."
The clerk moved to the cart with the seal key.
At the side rail, another capital intake clerk leaned down and read the docket aloud in a flat voice.
"Claimant Viremont."
A breath.
"Representative Mara."
Another beat.
"Route Analyst Thorn."
Another beat.
"Witness line."
Verya's shoulders eased almost imperceptibly when the title was read correctly again. Not because the room had been kind. Because it was being forced to say what it had been trying to write around.
That mattered.
The archive opened.
The first file on top was the South Approach route sequence, already marked with the broken plate, the continuity ring, and the lower stamp of Ferrin Transit Trust beneath the public utility seal.
The capital board chair read the top line and then looked at Kael.
"You claim the route plate was used to compress the road into a controlled corridor."
Kael answered without delay.
"Yes."
The chair looked at Verya.
"Can you support the interpretation."
Verya slid the route sheet toward herself and glanced at the pressure marks.
"Yes."
A breath.
"The route plate is under the public road mark."
Another beat.
"The compression traces are deliberate."
Another beat.
"The anchor sequence is not maintenance."
Another beat.
"It's a corridor ring."
The capital board member to the chair's right narrowed his eyes.
"How many anchors."
Verya answered at once.
"Five."
A breath.
"South approach."
Another beat.
"Harbor spine."
Another beat.
"East market line."
Another beat.
"District water link."
Another beat.
"And annex feed."
The capital hearing room went still.
That mattered.
The capital auditor leaned in slightly.
"That's a network sequence."
Verya nodded.
"Yes."
A breath.
"It's designed to move one route at a time under public utility language until the district spine is dependent on the corridor office."
The Ferrin representative tightened visibly. "That is an interpretation."
Verya looked at her.
"No."
A breath.
"It's the plan."
That mattered.
The board chair reached for the page and turned to the lower note.
Public resistance acceptable.
Principal witnesses preferred.
Analyst support to remain outside the principal lane.
Technical reassignment permitted if resistance occurs.
He read it once.
Then again.
His expression changed.
That mattered.
He looked at the intake clerk, then at Verya.
"Principal witnesses preferred."
Verya's expression remained exact.
"Yes."
"And the analyst support line?"
Verya's voice stayed level enough to make the room uncomfortable.
"It's the room's way of making me smaller so the file looks cleaner."
Silence.
That mattered.
The board chair did not look away from her.
"Do you contest the designation."
Verya's answer came immediately.
"Yes."
A breath.
"I am not support."
Another beat.
"I am the analyst."
Another beat.
"And I stand in the principal line."
That mattered.
Mara's gaze touched Verya briefly, then returned to the table. No speech. No theatrics. Just a tiny nod that made the room understand she saw the correction for what it was: not a kindness, a necessity.
The capital hearing clerk, without being asked, struck the support phrase from the docket margin and rewrote the line at the table.
The scratching of pen on paper sounded too loud.
That mattered.
The board chair folded his hands and looked down at the route map sheet.
"This corridor ring crosses public utility routes."
A breath.
"If this is true, then the Transit Harmonization Office is operating outside its remit."
Quill answered before anyone else.
"It's nested through the Continuity Allocation Subdivision."
A breath.
"And the trust mark under the route ring is Ferrin Transit Trust."
The Ferrin representative's mouth tightened.
"We underwrite continuity."
Kael looked at her.
"No."
A breath.
"You underwrite access control."
Another beat.
"You simply prefer it if the public can't tell the difference."
That mattered.
The board chair turned the page.
The next archive sheet was the route schedule.
His eyes moved across the lines, then hardened.
"Stage one."
A breath.
"Public resistance."
Another beat.
"Stage two."
Another beat.
"Emergency utility compression."
Another beat.
"Stage three."
Another beat.
"District spine isolation."
Another beat.
"Stage four."
Another beat.
"Public normalization."
He looked up.
"That's a campaign."
The room went quiet.
That mattered.
The capital auditor gave a low, grim nod. "A corridor campaign."
Verya said, "Yes."
The board chair looked at the sheet again and then at the capital observer from the ministry hearing.
"You received this relay too."
The observer nodded.
"Yes."
A breath.
"Broken seal."
Another beat.
"Transit Harmonization requested analyst reassignment."
The board chair looked over the table. "They want the analyst off the principal line."
Verya did not speak.
Mara answered for her with quiet, perfect sharpness.
"Yes."
A breath.
"Because she reads the pressure marks they want invisible."
That mattered.
The Ferrin representative had turned rigid, but the board chair had already shifted his attention to the next archive file.
He opened it.
The room saw the same line repeated in the routing memo.
Principal witnesses preferred.
Technical reassignment permitted if resistance occurs.
Support visibility to remain minimal.
The capital chair read the line and then set the page down very carefully.
That mattered.
"Who signed it."
The capital clerk hesitated and checked the relay summary.
"Continuity Allocation Subdivision."
The chair's gaze sharpened.
"Name."
The clerk swallowed.
"Acting office signatory is redacted."
A beat.
"However—"
He looked up, clearly uncomfortable.
"The transport chain note is attached."
He handed over a second sheet.
The board chair read it once and went cold.
That mattered.
"What."
The capital auditor leaned in.
The chair placed the sheet flat.
"The archive room at Transit Harmonization was emptied before warrant service."
A breath.
"Removal authorized under sealed internal transport."
Another beat.
"The route files were moved out of the office before the capital hold reached them."
Silence.
That mattered.
The room understood at once what the paper implied.
Someone inside the chain had known.
Someone had warned them.
Or someone had control enough to move the archives before the capital could touch them.
The corridor ring had not merely been built.
It had been protected.
The board chair looked up.
"Who authorized the movement."
The capital clerk hesitated.
"It's signed through the continuity chain."
A breath.
"And the relay is stamped by the Executive Continuity Desk."
The room sharpened around the words.
That mattered.
Even Ferrin's representative had gone still.
The capital board chair's voice turned lower.
"Which desk."
The clerk looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world.
"Executive Continuity Desk."
A breath.
"Capital annex internal transit."
No one spoke.
Because that was no longer a district office.
That was the capital.
The board chair tapped the transport note.
"Someone at the capital annex internal transit desk emptied the archive before our warrant reached it."
Sorel's face hardened. "Then the leak is inside the capital chain."
The capital auditor went very still.
Verya read the line again, then said with exact calm, "Or someone had enough access to the capital seal to move before the warrant arrived."
That mattered.
Kael's mind had already gone there, but hearing it spoken out loud in the capital hearing room made the implication feel heavier.
The hidden office above the hidden office now had another layer.
Someone in the capital chain had been close enough to the seal flow to warn the office.
Or had been the office.
Good.
Then the next question would be one the room could not avoid.
The board chair looked to Sorel. "Do you have an emergency hold?"
Sorel set the injunction package on the table.
"Yes."
A breath.
"South approach, harbor spine, east market line, and district water link under public route custody."
Another beat.
"Annex feed pending hearing review."
The board chair nodded once and looked at Verya.
"You named the ring from the pressure marks."
Verya nodded.
"Yes."
He held her gaze.
"You stand by the analysis."
"Yes."
"And you are not support."
Verya's expression remained exact.
"No."
A breath.
"I am the analyst."
Another beat.
"Principal analytic witness."
That mattered.
The chair gave a short nod.
"Good."
The word was small.
The effect was not.
The room felt it.
The capital clerk wrote the correction into the hearing docket. The scratch of the pen sounded like an argument being resolved through paper. Kael saw Verya's posture shift just a degree, the same way it had in the annex hearing chamber when the board was finally forced to make the correction publicly.
The board chair turned to the capital auditor.
"Begin provisional route injunction."
The auditor blinked. "Chair?"
"Begin it."
A breath.
"Freeze the harbor spine."
Another beat.
"Hold the east market line."
Another beat.
"And notify utility security to stand off the district water link."
That mattered.
The Ferrin representative's composure tightened to the point of strain.
"You cannot freeze the commercial routes on the basis of an inference."
Kael looked at her.
"No."
A breath.
"We can freeze them because your office turned them into a corridor ring."
Another beat.
"And if the city stumbles for a day while we pull your chain into daylight, that's still cheaper than letting you own the roads."
That mattered.
The board chair did not look at Ferrin.
He looked at the capital clerk.
"Log the corridor ring."
The clerk began typing fast.
The board chair continued, "Route Analyst Thorn will remain in the principal analytic line."
A breath.
"No support designation."
Another beat.
"No technical reassignment."
Another beat.
"Record that correction in the hearing log."
The capital clerk looked startled only long enough for the board chair to stare him into obedience.
He wrote it.
That mattered.
Verya watched the line go down and did not move.
It was not relief.
It was a correction too long delayed.
Mara's hand brushed Kael's wrist lightly again, a small private contact that grounded the room's sharper edges without needing to name them.
You're thinking, her expression said.
Kael answered silently, "Unfortunately."
The faintest trace of amusement touched her mouth.
Good.
Why.
Because now I know the capital is going to have to use her title in public twice before noon.
He looked at her.
That mattered.
She was right.
Again.
The capital clerk looked up abruptly.
"Chair."
A breath.
"New relay."
The room stilled.
The clerk swallowed and held out the sheet.
"It came from Transit Harmonization."
A beat.
"Immediately after the hearing docket changed."
Another beat.
"It requests 'protective relocation' of Route Analyst Thorn."
Verya went absolutely still.
Kael saw it.
The wording was almost the same as the one in the annex relay. The same bureaucratic violence. The same effort to move her to a side chamber while the room was getting larger around her.
The clerk read the next line, visibly uneasy.
"Due to route instability and witness exposure."
A breath.
"Principal review should remain reserved for claimant, representative, and technical personnel."
Another beat.
"Analyst support may remain in the secondary chamber for coordination."
The capital hearing room went cold.
That mattered.
The board chair took the relay and stared at it for a long moment before setting it down like something contaminated.
Verya's face had gone still enough to be dangerous.
"This is the fourth time."
No one answered.
Because the room had no useful defense.
Verya's voice was calm and exact.
"The annex tried it."
A breath.
"The docket tried it."
Another beat.
"The route note tried it."
Another beat.
"And now the capital relay tries it."
Another beat.
"Same habit."
Another beat.
"Different stationery."
That mattered.
The capital auditor's eyes narrowed.
"It's obstruction."
Sorel's face hardened. "Of course it is."
The board chair looked up at the clerk.
"Log the interference."
The clerk bowed quickly and started writing.
Mara's expression was cold.
"No."
A breath.
"She is not being moved out of the principal line because the office doesn't like where she stands."
That mattered.
The board chair looked directly at Verya.
"Do you contest the protective relocation request."
Verya's answer was immediate.
"Yes."
A breath.
"I am not support."
Another beat.
"I am not technical personnel."
Another beat.
"And I will not stand in a side chamber because the office above the office thinks it can file me small enough to make the room easier."
Silence.
That mattered.
The board chair nodded once.
"Accepted."
Verya closed her eyes for half a heartbeat and opened them again.
Not relief.
Recognition.
The room had been forced to say it aloud.
That mattered.
The clerk wrote the correction into the live docket, then crossed out the relocation note entirely at the chair's instruction. The sound of pen on paper sounded louder than the courtroom had any right to allow.
Bren muttered, "I hate that a woman saying 'no' in a room like this still sounds like a legal event."
Sella gave him a dry look. "That's because it is."
He exhaled sharply through his nose. "That is depressing."
"Yes."
"And accurate."
"That's why it's depressing."
Joren nodded once. "See? We all learned something."
Bren stared at him. "You learned nothing."
"I learned you're easy to annoy."
"That's not a skill."
"It is if I intend to use it."
That mattered.
The board chair folded the relay packet and handed it to the capital auditor.
"Transmit the obstruction note."
A breath.
"And order review of the Executive Continuity Desk transport chain."
Another beat.
"We want the person who emptied the archive."
The capital auditor nodded once and stood, already preparing the relay sequence.
The room shifted again.
Kael felt the motion now, subtle but real. The hearing had become something larger than route custody. The first hearing had proven the corridor ring. The second had forced the capital to recognize the route issue as a network hold. Now the capital was being pushed to look at its own internal leak.
That mattered.
The cart had entered the room carrying evidence.
It was about to leave carrying a war.
Mara leaned slightly toward Kael, her voice too low for anyone else.
"You're thinking."
He looked at her.
"Unfortunately."
The smallest trace of amusement touched her face.
Good.
Why.
Because now I know we've reached the part where the capital starts checking its own hands.
He gave her a brief look.
That mattered.
She was right.
Again.
The board chair looked across the table to Ferrin's representative.
"Your trust will preserve all route records under public custody pending review."
A breath.
"No transfers."
Another beat.
"No new continuity notes."
Another beat.
"And no movement of archives without witness presence."
The Ferrin representative's face had gone visibly rigid.
"This hearing is destroying commercial stability."
The board chair did not blink.
"No."
A breath.
"You were doing that."
Another beat.
"We're just making it visible."
That mattered.
The room held.
Then the capital clerk returned with a new sheet so quickly he nearly dropped it on the table.
He was pale.
"Chair."
A breath.
"Another relay."
Another beat.
"From the Executive Continuity Desk."
The board chair's gaze sharpened.
"Read."
The clerk swallowed.
"It says the archive room at Transit Harmonization was emptied under authorization from the Interim Continuity Office."
A breath.
"And the transport permit was signed by Deputy Continuity Commissioner Arlen Voss."
The room went silent enough to make the walls feel farther away.
That mattered.
The capital auditor froze.
Quill looked up sharply.
Sorel's face hardened.
Verya did not move, but Kael saw the change in her eyes.
Arlen Voss.
The name was new in the room but not yet in their lives. Notable enough to be remembered. Senior enough to matter. And now attached to the archive removal before the warrant service.
The board chair took the paper from the clerk and read it again.
Then once more.
His face became unreadable.
"Deputy Continuity Commissioner Arlen Voss."
The capital auditor looked sick in the way only bureaucrats do when they realize the leak has a name.
"That level shouldn't have touched route archive removal."
Sorel's jaw tightened. "Unless the archive was removed from above the office."
That mattered.
The board chair set the sheet flat on the table.
"Then we have our first suspect."
Verya's fingers tightened once around her route folder.
Kael saw the small movement.
That mattered.
Mara's fingers brushed his wrist lightly again, the same quiet grounding gesture as before, and Kael knew she had heard the room's shift as clearly as he had. The office above the office had named itself by accident. Not fully. Not enough. But enough to give them a direction.
Deputy Continuity Commissioner Arlen Voss.
A capital officer.
A transit officer.
A name attached to the evacuation of the archive room before the warrant.
Good.
Then the next chapter of the route war would have a person to chase.
The board chair looked at the witness line and then at Kael.
"We move to provisional injunction enforcement immediately."
A breath.
"Harbor spine first."
Another beat.
"Then the east market line."
Another beat.
"The analyst remains in principal line."
Another beat.
"And I want public custody on the archive cart until the capital hearing opens at dawn."
That mattered.
The clerk bowed and hurried to transmit the order.
Verya looked down at the open file stack and then up again.
"The corridor ring is moving faster than the public hold."
A breath.
"They knew we'd find the archive."
Another beat.
"And they've already emptied their own room."
Sorel's expression hardened. "Which means the next office is already watching us."
Verya nodded once.
"Yes."
The capital auditor's voice lowered.
"We need the transport chain."
The board chair gave a hard nod.
"We'll have it."
A breath.
"Or we'll have his name."
That mattered.
The door to Hearing Room Three opened then with a soft hydraulic click, and the air beyond it felt colder than the chamber itself. Two annex guards entered to escort the archive cart toward capital custody. The seal on the cart was checked, the route tray locked, and the witness tags doubled.
The route workers stood straighter.
The witness line tightened.
Kael looked at the cart and understood the shape of the next movement.
The archive was no longer evidence in a hearing.
It was a target being carried into a capital chamber.
And now the capital had to decide whether Deputy Continuity Commissioner Arlen Voss was a leak, a shield, or the edge of a much larger office above the office.
That mattered.
Mara's hand left his wrist, then returned to the inside seam of his sleeve for one brief private touch as the cart began to move.
You're thinking, her face said.
Kael answered silently, "Unfortunately."
The faintest trace of amusement touched her mouth.
Good.
Why.
Because now I know the capital has a name to follow.
He looked at her.
That mattered.
She was right.
Again.
And when the archive cart rolled out under capital witness guard toward the hearing room's holding annex, every person in the chamber understood that the road had stopped being the problem they could name first.
The office was now the problem.
And Arlen Voss was the first man attached to it.