Nexus
Irenya mounted the stairs to Elaaron’s apartments, her hair brushed, her sleep-deprived face washed to brightness with cold water, and her simple morning dress changed for a soft red skirt and bodice.
Kiel greeted her with his usual poise and led her to Elaaron’s study. His desk was tidy. Beside him stood Gedric and they both faced the fleetwalker, Tysin. He was dressed in nondescript clothing, the kind worn by an off-duty baker or a workman. A solid, unremarkable-looking man of about forty, Tysin possessed an everyday face, the sort that people were unlikely to remember. Elaaron dismissed the fleetwalker with a few quiet words Irenya did not catch. The man murmured a traditional greeting as he passed her. She replied in kind.
Elaaron waved her in. ‘I have sent Tysin north to see
