The iron latch of the residential quarters yielded with a faint click, offering little resistance as Caleb slipped a flat iron pick between the doorframe and the cedar jamb.
The narrow room smelled of stale tea, drying ink, and cheap tallow candles. It was located along the lower row of dormitory houses reserved for administrative scribes, far removed from the pristine heights of Cloud Mist Peak. Caleb pushed the wooden panel inward just enough to slip his body through, pulled the door shut behind him, and relatched the simple bolt with practiced care so that nothing appeared disturbed from the outside passage.
He did not light a lamp, nor did he disturb the ledgers and inkstones arranged upon the study desk.
Caleb pulled a plain wooden dining chair into the shadowed alcove beside the p
