8
Higgs sat at his desk, scattered papers and trinkets spread out in front of him, peering down at a thinly scrawled parchment, squinting as he read and randomly picking up items from the collection to hold in his palm. His lips moved silently, and his thumb brushed back and forth over each object in turn, until a decision was reached and he placed the item back in the pile and reached for another.
Outside the window, a cold wind cut over the Tangle far below, crashing into the cliff face and rushing up the steep walls to pour into his chamber, the flames in the fireplace dancing and growing into a roar. The sun was low on the horizon, a dying yellow light leaking in through the open window, fading with each passing minute so that he had to hunch closer and closer to the page in front of
