CHAPTER 39: MORNING AFTER CONVOY

The morning after the convoy ran quiet. The pines still moved, but the yard had that clean, post-evaluation calm where everyone pretended to study and really watched the notice board. I went straight to registration.

"Valcrey," the clerk said, tapping the form. "Approved tools for Zero-Light."

I set the bone lantern on the counter. Cold glow, small radius. "Low output only," I said.

He measured it with a ward strip, wrote the number, and stamped. "Registered. Don’t crank it."

I slid over two more slips. "Bone Sapper, one unit." A coin-sized crawly with a tapping foot for tile checks. "And one rope tool: bone pin with Prusik."

He checked the engraving marks, compared them to Liora’s note, and stamped again. "Registered. Captain use only."

"Understood."

Outside, Saintess Liora waited under the arch with Dorian. Platinum hair braided tight today. Soft blue eyes scanning the line. "Zero-Light rules," she said to the small knot of captains. "No lamplight. Registered low-light only, carried low. Band shields issued at the door. No singing the walls. Hums under one breath are acceptable when marked. If a ward tube speaks, you listen and answer with yes, no, or number only. Do not narrate."

We answered as one. "Yes."

She turned to me. "Armand. Bring your lantern and sapper. Keep the thread to two unless I tell you three."

"Two clean," I said.

"Good," she said. "You have mentor hours this morning. Use them."

The two mentees met me at the west path bench. A thin boy with too-big sleeves and a steady stare. A girl with calloused fingers and fast eyes. I didn’t ask for stories. "Footing first," I said. "Map later."

We worked a simple ladder. Heel down, knee soft, hips quiet. They copied. The boy leaned too far forward; I tapped the belt to pull him back. The girl tried to skip steps; I made her repeat until the habit stuck. No speeches. "Homework," I said at the end. "Five minutes of footwork after evening bell. If you skip a day, I’ll notice."

They nodded. The boy asked one question, exact. The girl asked none. Both were better at minute ten than minute one. That counted.

Ariadne crossed the quad at the far edge, turned her head just enough to see if I was doing the hours I’d signed for, then returned to her own list. Fine. I intended to make hers easier month by month, not with a line, but with receipts.

At midday Lyra met me and Gareth by the east corridor for map practice. She carried a blank grid and four chalk nubs. "Zero-Light won’t give you a song," she said. "It gives you corners and lies. Use the corners."

We walked a long stone hall with blacked-out lamps. I went first, hand on the wall, counting paces, marking a dot every ten. "Post points," Lyra said. "If I have to hum, I hum into posts. You pulse into the posts, not into my line."

"Into the posts," I said. Gareth marked with a small chisel where the floor lip changed. "I don’t hear much," he said, embarrassed.

"You feel enough," I said. "You just told us where the slope starts. That’s a better map than ink."

Pelham arrived late, jogging, breath short. He started to joke; caught my eye; didn’t. "Rope work," I said, bouncing a line into his hands. "Hands down, wrap here, load there. Clean knots. No flourishes."

He fumbled the first wrap, fixed it, tied the second smooth. "Again," I said. "There is no prize for fast. There is a penalty for sloppy."

By the fountain, Dorian ran a sound drill for captains. He dropped a coin on stone and looked at nothing while we stood very still. "You heard three sounds," he said. "Coin, echo, breath. Kill the third. Most teams fail because they pant."

I kept the breath low. Step/Set/Slip. Pulse only on contact. The coin sound came clear, then died. "Better," Dorian said. "Use the building. Don’t wrestle it."

Just before afternoon bells, Liora called me and Cael to the ward office. She unrolled a strip of track cloth. Iron-pine resin streaked one edge. "Gate Four, same smear," she said. "We’re not naming it out loud. We are not playing gossip. We are building cases. If you smell it tomorrow, you report with yes, no, number. Nothing else. Understood?"

We answered. "Understood."

On the yard’s edge, Aldric Voss leaned against a post with two boys and a smile he wore like a ring. He watched me tuck the lantern into my pack. "Nightlight toy," he said, loud enough to carry. "Cute."

I looked at his hands. No bandage from the bridge stunt. Good wraps, fresh gloves. He’d cleaned up for the crowd. "Safety notice," I said. "Sign it yet?"

His jaw twitched. Pierce, passing behind with a slate, didn’t break stride. "Voss," he said, "my office will see your initials before supper." The two boys found something very interesting in their boots. Small face-slap. It would do.

Seraphine appeared like a shadow that had learned to smile. White hair bright in the shade. Amethyst eyes reading angles. "Zero-Light makes strange allies," she said. "You could ask me for a list of dead-ends."

"I’ll ask for your help when you stop pushing people toward them," I said. "Change your methods. I’ll help you fix what you’ve broken."

"Promises in the dark are free," she said.

"Not mine," I said.

She tilted her head. "See you in the maze."

Afternoon drills were short and clean. I set Marrow to heel and kept Hollow perched, then built one more tool: a bone pin with a wide head, drilled for rope. It would sit in a crack without chewing stone. I practiced setting it with gloves on and eyes closed. Three tries. No slips. Done.

I ended the day in the side yard with simple anchors. Step, set, slip. Heel, hip, hand. Breath quiet. The sky went from blue to iron to ink. The bell rang. Two notes. Students drifted to dining. I stayed long enough to register the lantern with the gate team and to sign my mentor hours in the ledger.

At the room, I laid gear out in a straight line and checked each piece with a fingertip: lantern, sapper, pin, rope, chalk, map, water, rag, kit. I folded the list Ariadne had given me and slid it under the tray with the receipts. The box for mentor hours today had a mark with a time and a signature. Clean.

Sleep came without a fight. No medals in the box. No speeches in my head. Just the one sentence I trusted: be useful.

Dawn came gray. The yard filled. Pierce read names with his back to the rising light. "Zero-Light Labyrinth. Captains step to the line. Band shields on the table. Register tools here."

I clipped the shield around my arm. The rune warmed my skin. Lyra checked her chord marks. Gareth stretched his hands. Pelham flexed the rope knot until he could make it blind. Rooke tapped his toolbox and nodded once.

Liora stood at the door. "Order," she said. "Valcrey in front. Lyra behind. Gareth left, Pelham right, Rooke middle. Civilians between. Lantern low only on my mark. Tubes carry numbers. Answer clean."

"Yes," I said.

The shutters above the corridor slid. Light died into a dull line, then into black. Pierce’s voice came close. "Start."

"Lantern low," I said.

The bone lantern breathed a coin of gray on stone. We stepped into the dark.