Elene’s two apprentices acquired names the next morning by the simple method of Mira refusing to keep calling them “the tall one” and “the quiet one.” The tall one was Jor, seventeen, already strong enough to handle a full gather without wobble. The quiet one was Sela, fifteen, who watched every release and refusal with an intensity that suggested she was memorizing more than technique. Both adapted quickly to the dual work of ordinary glass and the careful handling of spheres that might or might not clear.
Ryn returned as well, this time without Archive gray. She wore plain clothes and carried a second, thicker packet of documents. “The declaration is drafted,” she said. “It will be sealed tomorrow evening unless something forces the senior stewards to delay. I can slow the clerks who ar
